


Therapy

by pidgethepidgeon



Series: Beetlejuice Short Stories [4]
Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Lydia gets help, Lydia needs a hug, Therapy, part 2 of 2, tw: Mentions of Suicide, tw: bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgethepidgeon/pseuds/pidgethepidgeon
Summary: Ever since her mother died Lydia has been having a hard time adjusting to her new life without her, even when she thinks she is making progress she still feels like she is doing something wrong.Follows the events after Emily dies to events after the musical.
Series: Beetlejuice Short Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556005
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> While this is not a sequel to "Nightmares" because part of t technically takes place before they even move into the house, this story won't make as much sense if you don't read "Nightmares" first because the second half is a continuation of that plot line

When Emily first died he wanted someone to help him bring back his once happy daughter, he would give anything to just see her smile again, or tell those silly jokes that he never understood but made Emily snort. He couldn’t stand to see the sight of Lydia dressed in black, her eyes always puffy and red. The weeks leading up to Emily’s passing Charles and Lydia were constantly in the hospital by her side. Charles figured that the little time Emily had left she would want to be with her daughter and that eighth-grade English classes came second. Even after the funeral, Charles didn’t force Lydia to go back to school until she said she was ready, he even suggested online school but she insisted she would go back. 

It went alright at first, he saw little rays of the old Lydia peaking through, but after a few days, he got a phone call to urgently come to the school and pick Lydia up. When he rushed to the office he was greeted by a sniffling Lydia hugging herself. She wouldn’t even make eye contact with her father as they walked out to the car. He tried to get the story off of her what had happened but she stayed silent the entire ride home and locked herself in her room. It took a few phone calls to the school for him to find out that a student Lydia had problems with in the past had been harassing her about Emily, and Lydia snapped when the boy started a rumor that Emily had killed herself. Charles went up to her bedroom but there was no response when he knocked on the door, just stifled sobs that were clearly being muffled by a pillow or blanket. She didn’t go back to school for another two weeks.

The school suggested Lydia go to grief counseling, have professionals help her work through all the emotions she was feeling. The school psychologist met with Lydia once a week, and all they were able to tell her was that one day she wouldn’t feel like this anymore. That her mother wasn’t in pain anymore, and that she was in a better place now. None of that helped her, Lydia wondered what better place it was if she couldn’t be with her mother. She started skipping her sessions with the counselor. She didn’t see a point to going anyway, he never listened to her about what she really wanted to say. He even accused her of being selfish for wishing her mother was back, and immature for being angry at the world for taking Emily from her. She lied to her father about it, she knew he didn’t care either so long as she plastered a fake smile on her face he would gush about her progress. It took less than two weeks for him to realize she hadn’t been going, though he never would have noticed if her one teacher hadn’t found her hiding in the library when she was supposed to be with the counselor. Instead of being asked why she didn’t go to her appointments she was given detention and a phone call was made to home.

The school told Charles that they had done all they could do to help Lydia, but he may want to consider outside resources if they want to see actual results. During his brief search for a therapist for his daughter, he found Delia on a facebook page. She sounded perfect, and he hoped that Lydia would be more willing to the idea of seeing a life coach instead of a therapist. He booked a session with Delia and drove nearly an hour out of town to take Lydia there. Delia was like a ray of sunshine. Her positivity bubbling out of her and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw her. Lydia was less than impressed and was extremely hesitant to even go into her office.

Five months later and Lydia still hadn’t made any progress. She hardly slept or ate, her grades were tanking, her teachers called home almost weekly about her lack of focus or outright absence in class. She still went to see Delia, and though Charles had his doubts when he didn’t see any results, Delia assured him that life coaching can take months before any progress is seen. Her methods were ...unconventional, the crystals threw him off but the fact that Lydia had an opinion on them (though it was often mockery) gave him a glimmer of hope that maybe her sense of humor was slowly starting to shine through. However, there was a point when Charles knew that no amount of life coaching would help Lydia. She was being harshly bullied in school, he knew middle school could be rough but there would be days she would beg him to not make her go. She would never tell him why but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. The same boy from the previous year was at it again, starting out with just cruel jokes that when they garnered a reaction from Lydia he would mock her by asking if she was going to go cry to her mommy about it. Charles tried everything to force the school to stop it, but they claimed their hands were tied. The breaking point came when Lydia finally had enough and lashed out on the boy, slapping him in the face. 

She sat in the principal's office sulking and trying to hold back tears while the boy sat in the seat next to her, a bright red mark on his cheek. Charles tried to remain stoic when the boy was simply given a warning to not instigate Lydia. He was dismissed back to class and given a sympathetic look from the principal. Charles asked to speak to the principal alone and Lydia was sent to wait outside the door. 

“Mr. Deetz, your daughter is facing up to a two-week suspension for assaulting that boy. We have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying at this school.”

“Is that a fact? He’s been bullying her for months now, and the school has done nothing about it but tell me my daughter needs psychiatric help. She went to your school therapist, she sees another therapist, but I think the problem runs a lot deeper than anything the school can help.” Charles replied, “Look, it has been hard for Lydia since her mother died five months ago-”

“And we are sorry for her loss but it is not an excuse for violent outbursts.”

“If you would let me finish...I want to give Lydia a fresh start. The school year is ending in less than a month and this summer I’m going to be moving to Connecticut, just to distance her from the whole situation. If you suspend her from school she is going to think that we’re moving as a punishment. Could you just do me a favor and let her off with a warning?”

“Mr. Deetz, letting her go without any consequences would be sending a terrible message to the other students, especially the boy she assaulted.”

“She slapped him! He got in her face and was bullying her and she slapped him. I’m not even mad about it. Give her detention if you have to make a message out of her. I promise you she will not be giving you any more problems this school year.”

He took Charles up on his offer and Lydia got three days of detention and was made to write a formal apology letter to the boy for hitting him. Though the letter was more spite than apology the school accepted it, and her punishment was over. The school year ended and as Charles had promised the family went to Connecticut. 

After a strange first week in the new house, it seemed that Lydia had finally begun to settle into her new life. Despite everything that happened she seemed to be genuinely happy and was even accepting of him and Delia’s relationship. He tried not to be hurt when Lydia would favor the Maitlands some days, but he figured if it was making her happy he didn’t have a problem with it. He stopped hovering over his as much, gave her more freedom, and thought that she was progressing well. It wasn’t until a month later when Barbara asked to talk to him that he realized how not okay Lydia really was. 

“She’s been having nightmares, Charles. Bad ones, every night. She’s been trying to hide them from us. Stuffing towels under her door, muffling her crying with pillows. I had to sit in her bed all night with her asleep in my lap just to make sure she actually slept. I’m worried about her, I don't like that she’s trying to keep this from us.”

“Did she tell you what they were about at least.”

Barbara nodded, “Usually her mother dying, but she said something about how she feels terrible for how she acted, how scared she was when I ...when Beetlejuice tricked her. She told me about how alone she felt in the Netherworld. I could handle her telling me that, but when I tried to tell her it was okay and that we forgave her she started panicking, screaming about how she doesn’t deserve our forgiveness, or how she deserves these nightmares as a punishment. I know Lydia looks up to me, but I am really out of my depths here, she wouldn’t listen to reason at all. I only think she agreed with me in the end because she was going to pass out from the exhaustion of the whole episode.”

“I thought she had been coping better, that’s why I haven’t pushed her towards anything, I didn’t think she needed it anymore. She seems to be happy, especially with you guys. You just seem to understand her better than I can, and I’m her father for god sake. I’ve been at this for months now Barbara and I just feel like I’m constantly letting her down.”

“She doesn’t need perfection Charles, she needs someone to be there for her. I know she knows that we love her, but something is preventing her from breaking through that final barrier and letting us show it. The stuff that happened, it’s not typical. Most fifteen-year-olds don’t live in haunted houses or are technically widows. She has a lot of trauma to work through, and I don’t exactly know how to go about it. I mean I’m a dead...but grown woman and it still took me a while to process the events. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for Lydia.”

“How hard what has been for me?” Lydia asked, sleepily peeking out from behind the doorframe of the kitchen.

Charles carefully walked over to Lydia and gave her a hug, it wasn’t uncommon for them to hug in the morning so Lydia didn’t hesitate. He rubbed her shoulders and when they broke the embrace he held her hands gently in his, “Honey Barbara told me about last night.”

She couldn’t help but feel hurt when she looked over at the ghost sitting at the table, “I had a rough night. That’s all.”

“I think it’s a little more than that. Look I know I have been far from perfect when helping you with everything that’s been happening in your life. If Emily were here she would know exactly what to do, but I want to help you, sweetheart. We all want to make sure you are okay.”

Anger bubbled in Lydia’s tiny frame, “There is nothing wrong with me! I know exactly what you’re going to say next, dad. You’re going to tell me that you want to send me to some shrink who is going to fix me and make me the perfect happy daughter you want.” she was yelling now, a hint of trembling in her voice as she tried to fight back angry tears, “I’m right aren’t I? You just want me to magically be fixed-”

“Lydia’s you aren’t broken.” he pulled slightly at her arm, guiding her to sit at the table with them, “This isn’t about fixing you, it’s about giving you support and guidance.”

“I’ve been doing just fine, you guys are supportive.”

Barbara chimed in, “I know we support you, but sweetie last night told me that you need more. There is no shame in going to talk to somebody, they can really help.”

“No, they don’t!” Lydia shouted, “All they do is patronize you and tell you everything is going to be alright, or that everything happens for a reason. There is no reason for anything! There’s no good reason that my mom died. They tell me she’s in a better place now? I’ve been there..the netherworld sucks and just knowing that my mom is alone in there, without me. That makes me feel so much worse. Everyone that I’ve seen just makes me feel worse.”

“I didn’t know the school therapist told that to you.” Charles admitted, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because dad, the only time you’d pay attention to me was when I pretended everything was fine. It wasn’t fine, I’m still not fine! I am so sick of not being normal, it’s a constant fight to convince myself that life is even worth living.”

“Honey,” Barbara rubbed Lydia’s hand with her thumb, “Of course life is worth living, why would you think it’s not.”

Lydia couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “You saw me on the roof, you can’t even pretend to know that I’ve felt this way.”

“I never knew that’s why you were up there. I thought that Beetlejuice brought you there.”

“Wait..never knew what?”

Barbara and Lydia had both forgotten that Charles didn’t know about the events that transpired on the roof. Lydia mentally slapped herself for bringing it up, because now she was going to lose everything she had worked for. 

“Before you say anything I’m not..like that anymore. I don’t want to die, mainly because I know what comes next, but it is just so hard to keep trying. Everything feels so pointless. Any slight progress I make, I can’t even be happy about because I know how pathetic I am when I cry myself to sleep at night or wake up terrified from nightmares that I can’t control. I don’t want to reach out to anyone because then you all look at me like” she gestures to them, “that. Like I’m some stray puppy.”

“How come you never told me that you...that you tried to kill yourself?”

“Because I didn’t go through with it. Beetlejuice convinced me not to, and though it was with terrible reasoning, I didn’t end up doing it.”

“If he hadn’t been there, would you have?”

Lydia paused, she didn’t know the answer to that. It was so hard to think back on her mental state back then, she was so blind with grief and betrayal from her father’s new fiance that she wasn’t thinking anything through clearly. She knew now that she wanted to live, but she couldn’t say for certain that if Beetlejuice hadn’t been there that she wouldn’t have gone through with it. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, allowing a rogue tear to go down her cheek as she braced herself for Barabra and her father yelling at her for how stupid she was, and how little trust they now had in her. Instead, she didn’t hear any yelling, she felt arms around her and knew she was being hugged. She opened her eyes and saw her father crying, muttering about how glad he was that he didn’t lose her too. She began to cry as well, nuzzling into the crook of his neck while he just held her. 

“I’m proud of you.” Barbara told her, “Beetlejuice may have been there at the right place at the right time to distract you, but it was you who made the decision Lydia. You were the one who chose to live, don’t forget that.”

“I am proud of you too. You say that you’re small and pathetic, but I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as strong as you. To have gone through so much and to keep going?”

“But what about the nightmares?” Lydia wiped at her eyes, “I just want them to stop.”

“I want to help you, Lydia.” her father said, “I am not the best person for the job. I know you’ve had bad experiences before, and a lot of that is my fault for not listening to you and being so caught up in my own world. I promise that this time will be different. If we go to the counselor and after two appointments you don’t like that...we won’t go back to them.”

Barbara smiled, “I know a great children’s therapist, I went to college with her and she has an office a few blocks away from here. I think she could really help you, sweetie.”

Hesitantly Lydia nodded, willing to try one more time. 

The ride to the office one week later was a strange one. She had been researching online how to connect with a therapist and she had been following some of the advice such as keeping a journal of all the strong feelings she had been having over the week. She held it tight to her chest as they walked in the building, the juvenile paintings on the walls didn’t instill confidence in Lydia that they would be able to help her with her mature problems but she didn’t want to give up just yet. Her father gave her a quick kiss on the forehead when she was called back, she took in a deep breath and followed the receptionist to the room. 

The office was a lot more minimalist than she had been expecting. The walls were a soothing grey color and there was a white couch lined with fluffy pillows on top of them. Next to the couch was a table set up with some strange objects like a square of sand and a tiny rake, a stress ball, a stuffed bear, and a cube with little buttons on it. Lydia observantly looked around the room while she waited on the couch for the therapist to arrive, she admired the bookshelf filled with impressive books and smiled when she noticed a photo of Barbara and who she assumed her counselor was in college. 

“Hi, Lydia sorry to keep you waiting.” a short woman walked into the room and gently shut the door, “My name is Amanda, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Were you a family friend of Barbara’s”

Lydia shook her hand and smiled politely, “You could say that.”

“She was a wonderful woman,” Amanda lamented, “So what brings you here today?”

“Where should I start?”

“From wherever you’d like. We can talk about today, we could talk about last week, we could talk about three years ago. It is completely up to you.”

Lydia took in a shaky breath, “Seven months ago my mother died.”


End file.
